


Mellow Yellow

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-06
Updated: 2005-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "Sunny days, sweeping the clouds away, on my way to where the air is sweet.  Can you tell me how to get, how to get to..."





	Mellow Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Mellow Yellow**

**by: DianeB**

**Character(s):** CJ  
**Category(s):** Humor  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** I claim no rights to any trademarked name mentioned herein. I'm just having fun.  
**Summary:** "Sunny days, sweeping the clouds away, on my way to where the air is sweet. Can you tell me how to get, how to get to..."  
**Spoiler:** Eppur Si Muove  
**Written:** May 2005  
**Author's Note:** Thanks to Donovan for the title. (Raise your hand if you're old enough to remember Donovan. "I'm just mad about Saffron..." High five if you still have the 45.) 

C.J. was sitting alone on the bench, absently checking her notes, trying to keep her mind off less important matters like her colossal screw-up with Ben, and on more important matters like the President's magnificent ire over the whole funding thing with Ellie, when the object of a middle-important matter lumbered up and sat beside her. 

She started playing eye-tag with him, until the mis-timed moment when their eyes met. Then C.J. just gave up, craned her neck, and stared outright. To his credit, he stared right back, though it was much less of an effort for him. (But he looked away first, so C.J. took back some of the credit.) 

Ornithologically speaking, he was hardly a bird at all, except, maybe, for the feathers. 

But he _was_ big, mighty big, and blindingly bright, and C.J. wasn't altogether sure how she felt about being upstaged in this manner. Not that he was doing anything more than crowding her on the bench. But she was, after all, White House Press Secretary. 

Still, a big bird had a right to sit wherever a big bird wanted, never mind her rear end was about to slide off the end of the bench, or that she, in her dark outfit, was about to disappear into a sea of alarming yellowness. 

She briefly entertained the idea of asking him if he'd heard all the tall jokes, but was half-afraid she might hear a few more, and she was pretty sure she wasn't ready for that - not right from the horse's mouth, anyway. 

In the end, C.J. simply gathered her dignity and her papers, stood, and stepped carefully around his large orange feet, trying without much success to appear unaffected by the encounter. 


End file.
